Kotlich Cooking at the cabin
It is always really tempting to cancell or change plans when the weather looks awful. All last week I kept thinking, "Why are we going? We will all just get wet and muddy and get no jobs done at all!" But as the week end drew nearer the weather started to change.
We arrived late on Saturday evening after a tiring day and long drive. As we pulled into the turning bay by the stream we breathed a sigh of relief. We opened the car doors to the sound of rushing water. The stream was over flowing. The stars, yes stars, were clear as crystal and the cabin was glowing in the dark on its hummock in the trees. We grabbed what we needed for a good nights sleep and with a rather lazy torch struggled up the hill, stumbling in the bracken, through the Douglas fir to our warm supper and bed.
The old Jotel wood burner with its relief of moose, wood cutters and trees, was warm and welcoming. Our co woodlanders for the week end had prepared beautifully. A dish of hot stew amongst the candles and lamps set me yawning. They scrambled up to the sleeping platform, we spread our bedding in front of the stove.
The week end was exhausting and satisfying. We all took our jobs according to our strength and skills. My outside jobs consisted of mostly dragging branches, lighting fires and cooking, washing up, clearing narrow places with my secateurs and moving logs around. Others improved paths, steps, chainsaw work, cleared fallen trees, propped up fences, made plans and stocked up with wood for the winter.
We had a social day when several friends and relatives turned up for a Goulash in the Kotlich. Outdoor cooking is always a major theme of our time in the woods. Some friends say it feels as if we live there all the time we seem so bedded in. Others arrive bringing cakes for tea, so there is yet more sitting around the fire. Others offer us showers and supper, where the warmth and hospitality of their home nearly sends us into a deep sleep.
It was a wonderful opportunity to enjoy family and work/potter together. But I have to admit to grade three exhaustion on return and gratefully falling into bed under my douvet.